


The Colours of Dusk

by WaterHorseyBlues



Category: Shaman King (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Activism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Partial death of the author, Post-Canon Fix-It, Sort of fix it in that im making Jeanne's plot better, Spoilers, Takei Arrested For Timeline Crimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29386662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterHorseyBlues/pseuds/WaterHorseyBlues
Summary: Post SK, pre Flowers. Following the fights, Jeanne and the X-Laws rebuild themselves as a charity and set up The Maiden's Safe Haven to care for lost shaman. Jeanne decides she can no longer do the minimum, and drums up social response to inequality and unfair living. When her path crosses Ren's, they're both frustrated and impressed by each other's ways.
Relationships: Iron Maiden Jeanne/Tao Ren
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

The Maiden's Safe Haven was a shelter for those with nowhere else to go. Jeanne had grander ideas for it, but there was only so much that could be done with the resources they had. Like many Shaman locations, it was hidden from the eyes of the everyday person bustling around the city streets. Most of the people staying there were those who'd travelled to the USA expecting to improve their lives by winning the Shaman fight, but were now lost with no life goal or stable income to find homes of their own. Some were younger than Jeanne, parentless and jaded.

It was the newest of the X-Charity's projects and was where the Iron Maiden herself was currently focusing her energies. She'd always had a healing soul, so children and adults alike often felt calm around her. The work had initially clashed with the decision that she receive some sort of formal education, but she found it meant she could learn alongside the other kids and even some adults who'd had difficult childhoods. Most weekdays she hosted several classes where they went through a home-schooling curriculum and then weekends focused on healing activities.

This was fine for a few years until Jeanne got to an age where she had to start thinking about what she wanted to do in the future. Obviously it was helping people through the X-Charity. It was when she started studying social issues and history of social change did the impending weight of how small her impact was seat itself heavily on her shoulders.

It had been easier when Marco had just pointed her at an enemy like she was a gun. Really, that's all she'd been. A weapon.

But she had a choice now, and she had to work to make it mean something.

“Maiden, you look stressed.”

Jeanne looked up from her exam prep to see Meene watching her quietly. “Oh. It's alright, I promise.”

She came over and took a seat beside her. “You don't need to keep your worries hidden, we want to help you. Is someone upsetting you?” Though she had mellowed out, as many of the X-Laws had, her stern jump to action remained.

“I don't wish to put too much on your mind.” Jeanne pushed a smile onto her mouth.

Meene looked at her quietly for a moment, then took her hand in her own. “When I was your age I also had a lot on my mind. I didn't want to make it other people's problem. But I learned that it was by leaning on others that I was able to keep standing when it got too much.”

Jeanne felt her smile soften.

“So what's wrong?”  
No getting past her. “I want to help people. A lot of people. But...” Her gaze moved away, centuries of horror and struggle rumbling through her mind. “For the first time I feel so small.”

“I've felt small too.” Meene squeezed her hand. “You inspired me to push myself. The X-Laws made me do things I didn't know I could. I felt like someone.”

“But if I inspired you, who will inspire me?” She asked.

“You'll know when it comes to you. For now, if you need anything we're here for you.”

She looked down at their hands. It was comforting, but not a solution. “Thank you.”

Funds grew thinner. The X-Charity took some generous donations and secured funding schemes here and there, but the demands were high. Children in warzones needed food, education, sanitization, their families needed protection, security, medical treatment. The Haven needed more learning resources, mental health support, repaired facilities. The X-Laws took on side jobs to keep the Haven going. Those who stayed got work in odd jobs to help out. If Jeanne thought they were doing something immoral or dangerous, she'd put a stop to it at once. It kept happening anyway.

Funds were thin.

Jeanne did not have a real birthday. She had a date of registration – when she was taken in at the orphanage. Her real birthday was a mystery. It was on her fifteenth “birthday” that she knew something had to be done.

Everyone gathered together with a homemade cake, sang and gifted her a dress they'd banded together to sew themselves. It didn't quite fit – too tight on the chest and sleeves too short. She beamed as she spun around in it until she fell over and laughed. She'd had to change back into her previous clothes, for fear of ripping the seams. The cake was cut and they cut each slice thin so everyone who wanted some could get a piece. Jeanne turned down having any, wanting everyone else to get a chance to eat.

“How wonderful,” an older shaman said, licking the frosting from his fingers. “I haven't had cake in such a long time. It was my favourite food.”

Jeanne's smile slid and she had to hoist it back up.

The rest of the party she watched the others dance and joke and play. She sat out, smiling in a corner. It wasn't totally out of character, her health was hardly the best for physical activity, though she'd been working on it.

At the end, when everyone had gone to bed or found somewhere else to pretend they weren't drinking, Jeanne sat and stared at the TV in the rec room.

“Maiden?”

John stood in the doorway, watching her. He'd been angry at first, after the events of the fight, but turned sympathetic to her. Jeanne had been a child lied to most of her life, she wasn't to blame. Besides, he liked her.

“Oh, is it late?” She asked, looking around.

“Really late. Why are you awake?” He came over. “Still buzzing on sugar from your bithday- Ah, you didn't have any cake, did you?”

It was an innocent question, but it stirred an intense response in her. The teenage girl's usually soft eyes blazed and she sat up.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“It's not far!” She declared.

He took a step back, startled. “What isn't?”

“Everything!” Her fists were balled tight. “The war, the death, the suffering – all of it! It's not fair!”

He sighed. “I know. I know it's not. We all do. We know it just as much as anyone.”

“But it could be!” She did something very uncharacteristic, and slapped her lap in a burst of anger. “It could be fair! It could be good! But people don't want it to be, John, they don't want it, and now we all have to- to-” Her eyes welled up.

“Oh, Maiden.” He rubbed his neck. Teenage girls weren't something he knew a lot about. “Look, I get it's upsetting. Maybe you should just sleep, it's been an exciting day, you're all wound up.”

She sat in silence, clenched tight like a cuckoo clock waiting to spring.

He shifted between his feet. He wasn't the right person for this.

She stood suddenly. “You're right.” She decided.

He felt an immense rush of relief. “You're going to bed?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “I need to be awake early.”

“Huh? What for?”

“I have calls to make. I'll need to arrange lots of meetings. The sooner we start planning the faster we can start travelling around.”

“Wait- travelling around!?” He wondered if she'd gone slightly insane. It wasn't impossible, her childhood had been traumatising. “Why?”

“Why else?” She whirled to look him in the eyes, white hair flying around her. “To let them eat cake!”


	2. Chapter 2

As a rule, shaman generally weren't tech-savvy. Most of the had grown up in poor, rural areas of the globe or simply never had need for it before. In the modern day, avoiding it wasn't an option any more. Though she was too busy to be living the life of a teenager on the internet, Jeanne had enough computer skills to get her through her classes and find learning resources for the others at the Haven. Secretly she was very proud of how well she could put an email together – compelling words were really her best strength.

“Is this the really the route you think is best?”  
She looked up from the laptop to see Larch entering the study room, a pile of envelopes in hand. Each one was addressed to a different shaman all around the world who she was certain would have no internet connection. Cebin, who had a fondness for the arts, had written them all with his neat, legible handwriting.

“If we don't reach out, how can we inspire them? We can't keep putting band-aids on bullet wounds.” She sent the emails out and rubbed her fingers.

“You are good at inspiring, but I wonder... Could it be done better?” He settled down into the chair beside her.

Though Jeanne was a teenager now, years of being contained in the Iron Maiden and suffering physical torture had stunted her growth. The huge form of the man beside her made her even more fairy-like. He'd softened, though. No longer cut and battle-ready, he'd developed a stomach and some roundness on his face. All of the X-Laws had. She didn't want them fighting any more.

“Our options are limited. If I can reach out and have them make the choice to stand up against inequality in society, isn't that the right thing?”

“I agree, Maiden.” He said the name fondly, like a parent giving their child a pet name. “My thought is, on the battle field we appreciated letters, but more than anything it was meeting great minds that inspired us. If you hadn't come to me when I was in need, I wouldn't have stayed at your side.” He huffed a laugh, gruff and heavy. “I'm becoming sentimental. But my point stands. We've met and rescued children in war zones, why not meet these shaman ourselves?” He set the letters down.

She took one and stared at the name written across it, thinking hard. “Our funds...”

“Could take us out on one route around the globe, and we have our spirits to help us. With you, I learned that Shaman are never without resources.”

Her brows pinched together as she considered it.

“Maiden, I know you haven't travelled in a long time, but I do believe you have the strength to handle it.”

“Larch, your faith in me is very compelling, but I worry...” She looked up at him. “Would Cebin be upset that I had him do these letters for nothing?”

“Ah.” He looked down at the pile. “Well...We will bring them along and say we're giving them out I person.”

“I see. That's a good plan.”

Cebin did not say anything, nor could anyone tell what he was feeling under the mask, but Jeanne got the impression he was seeing how needless the letters were. In an attempt to make his work not be in vain, Jeanne asked for him to gift the letter to each shaman after they left, like a sort of invitation or leaflet of their work. She heard him briefly mutter something about “campaigning work” to himself and decided to pretend all was well. Morale was important on these journeys and she was expending all her effort keeping everyone inspired enough to go on.

The cold countries were the hardest. Her joints ached and seized up a few times. She had her wheelchair, well modified to get her across difficult landscapes. She'd hoped Shamash might have created a helpful oversoul for it, but he had no interest in such minor trifles. These days he had little interest in anything at all. When the weather was too harsh for the chair to get through, she ended up being carried on someone's back while two others handled the chair. She'd apologised for it many times, but they'd noted that this was far more preferable to lugging around the Iron Maiden.

Hot countries were better. Her aches subsided and they were often flat and easy to walk around. A few times she'd got to ride animals, which she'd enjoyed more than anything else. The next Haven should be somewhere warm, she thought, for others who have pains like me.

Always their arrival was met with suspicion, even though they no longer wore the uniforms, often their leaving would be seen off with waves and calls for another visit. They did their best to help wherever they stopped, and Jeanne took the time to talk to anyone who had questions or concerns, soothed their fears, offered her shoulder when stress wore them to tears.

She was very, very tired, but kept at it. It was important.

Sometimes it didn't go well. People didn't appreciate being told that they weren't doing things right, or they should upturn what they had going for them. They especially didn't appreciate a bunch of naïve foreigners trying to stick their noses in matters they didn't understand. Jeanne often had to stop her companions from getting heated up and starting fights, urging them to leave calmly.

After one particularly aggressive visit when they were chased out of the town, Jeanne left the others to set up a camp while she took a walk to clear her head. Shamash floated alongside her, keeping her safe.

When she was sure no one could see her, she pressed her fists so her eyes. The shaking came fist before her eyes stung. She held it back as hard as she could, throat burning and lips trembling. The inside of her chest felt too small to get any air into it.

“Humans can't be trusted to fix their own mistakes.”

She spun around, hair flying, and felt bile rise up inside her.

In the middle of the empty plain stood the Shaman King himself. Unlike Jeanne, Hao hadn't aged a day, right down to the length of his hair, frozen in time. Back then he'd seemed so grown up and strong. Now he looked no more than a child given too much power. She knew better than to underestimate him.

“Why are you here?” Her voice came out harsh.

“I'm always here. Or did you forget?” He sat on the floor and rest his chin on his fist, that familiar mocking smirk on his face.

“You're no help to anyone.” She turned her back on him. “Leave.”

“You can't help them either. They thrive on their own destruction.” He was in front of her once more, a cat cradled in his arms.

“I told you to leave.” She turned from him again and began walking away.

“Even if I go, the truth won't. You're hopeless, Maiden.”

The teasing nickname stung her and in a flash of blind fury she swung around, lashing her hand out flat and sharp. She'd never hit anyone before, not with her bare hand. She did not manage to hit anyone today. Hao had vanished once more, laughter echoing through the empty air.

She sank down to her knees and breathed heavily, feeling the anger spark and frizzle all over her body. When it finally passed, she stood and made her way back to the others.

“We were beginning to worry,” Meene said with relief when she returned, then concern wrinkled her brow. “Are you okay?”  
“I'm fine.” Jeanne tried to keep her voice gentle.

“Maiden-” Larch began. He'd felt the twinge of guilt whenever they'd been rejected – he'd pushed the poor girl out into the world after all.

“Don't.” The word came out harsh and she clenched her jaw shut. Swallowed. “I'm not.”

The others looked between themselves, confusion and worry on their faces. Jeanne pulled herself together, not wanting to appear fragile or immature.

“I'm not the Iron Maiden any more. I never was. It's time I became someone new, someone who is honest. Please, just call me Jeanne. I think it would be better if we can speak on more equal terms.”

Porf was the first to nod and smile, soon followed by the others. “We can do that.”

She nodded, the tension melting off her, and settled down beside the camp fire. “I would like us to take a detour,” she announced, “there's someone I wish to speak to.”

Lyserg had only just opened the door to his accommodation when Jeanne threw her arms around him in a tight hug. He was startled by the mass of pale hair covering his face, then laughed in delight.

“Maiden! I wasn't expecting to see you so soon!”

“Please, call me Jeanne now.” She stepped back so the others could greet him.

“I knew you'd be coming, but why? You didn't say much when you called.” He'd grown a lot since anyone had seen him, now a tall and thin, a smattering of facial hair growing on his jaw and voice much lower than anyone remembered.

“I thought we should catch up.”

“We actually quite a bit of work to do here,” Meene told him, “so we'll be leaving you two to chat while we do outreach.”

“I've heard about your work, lots of Shaman are whispering about it, some regular people too.” He grinned.

“Really?” Jeanne's eyes widened.

“You're helping a lot of people. News travels fast.”

For the first time since the encounter with Hao, she felt a burst of pride rush through her. Lyserg could sense the joy radiating off her and stifled a laugh. She'd become more human over the years.

“We'll leave you to it. Don't hesitate to call if you need us.” Larch patted Jeanne's shoulder, and the others headed off with a wave.

Lyserg's place wasn't grand in any way, but it was his own. What little had been retrieved from his family was displayed in the small flat alongside souvenirs of the Shaman Fight. Photos with his friends were framed on the wall along with posters from movies he was a fan of and collections of books. He brought a steaming teapot and two cups over, then poured warm tea out for both of them.

“Are you happy here?” She asked.

“I miss everyone, if that's what you mean.” He took a sip of the hot drink. “But yeah, it's good. I have friends, I'm studying, I'm doing my own thing. I'm definitely not as angry as I used to be.” He laughed.

She looked down into her cup. “I see.”

He put his drink down and rest his hands on his knees. “You've grown a lot. I nearly didn't recognise you.”

“Really?” She raised her eyes.

“Yeah, even the way you dress...”

She looked down at the shirt and knee-length skirt she wore. It was cute, but simple, neat. London was cold, so she'd thrown a blazer over the top, but that was it. A far cry from her eccentric clothing of her childhood. The most she kept from it was a neat hairband with some floral accents. “I suppose a lot has changed.”

“Maybe, but your heart is still in the same place.”

“Sometimes I worry it's not.”

He waited for her to expand on that, but she didn't. She drank silently from her cup.

“We're not who we want to be all the time,” he said quietly. “I learned that when I was with the X-Laws, and when I was with Yoh. Even now I'm not always who I want to be. It's okay, Jeanne, it's just part of being human.”

“I'm still learning about that.” She rubbed her thumb on the cup handle. “I want to help people, but it's hard. We don't have a lot since....”

“Since Marco...”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Not everyone wants to hear the words of an idealistic little girl.”

“Is that what they said to you?”

She nodded.

“They don't get you like we do.”

She snorted out a small laugh. “I don't think anyone gets me, not even me.”

He watched her for a minute, then sighed. “Well, I don't know how to help you with that. Maybe you just need to open up more.”

She looked down.

“I can help out a bit with your work, though. I'm funded through my study by a sponsorship. There's lots of wealthy groups out there who are willing to help charities and social movements, see who you can get sponsorships and funding from. Maybe even wealthy shaman families will want to help too.”

She looked up at him. “Would that work?”

“Can't hurt to try.”

She sat up, energized once more, then hesitated. “But where would we start?”

“Well, I can't promise anything from him, but I have Manta Oyamada's number, if you want it?”

“Would he help us?”

“Can't hurt to try.” He smiled.

She grinned, deeply thankful that she'd been able to meet up with him once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm honestly just makin stuff up but you know whats how fanfic works babey


	3. Chapter 3

The Oyamada Corporation had a large, glossy office tower in the United States, situated in the centre of a large city. At night it lit up with its bright brand logo like an artificial moon. Jeanne had heard that the company had started switching to environmentally friendly energy, though the sight of it hardly inspired much in her. The elevator ride to the top floor had been long and tedious and started to remind her of being in the iron maiden. Maybe it was all the travelling around, or meeting up with people she'd not seen since the fight, but nightmares about being locked inside with spiked walls pressing in had started plaguing her sleep.

She was eating a lot more sweets lately. No one said anything, but she saw how they stared when she opened another box of cheap cakes.

They reached the top floor and followed the signs until they reached a door with a neat label on it reading “Oyamada Manta”. She stepped forward, raised her head, and knocked. There was a pause, just long enough for her to think they'd come at the wrong time, and then the door opened. She stared at empty air for a second, then looked down.

Manta was almost exactly as she remembered him: short, bowl cut hair, big bright eyes. The only difference was that he now sported a very neat suit, and some of the softness of his face had matured. Really, it was only that she'd grown taller that she noticed.

“Come in, take a seat. I prepared tea for you. Uh.” He looked at the group gathered at his door, then into the large plush office. “I'll call for more seats to be brought up. Make yourself comfortable until then.”

Though compelled to ensure the others comfort before her own, she was made to sit in one of the padded armchairs while the rest of the group squeezed onto a small couch while Manta used the phone on his desk to call for more chairs. Within a minute a smartly dressed assistant brought some fold-outs for them to distribute across. Even these were plush, high end seats better than they had back at the Haven.

With everyone seated, he handed the hot green tea out, then took a cup for himself.

“I was surprised when you called. I didn't think you remembered me at all.” He took a seat on a low chair with a high back, folding one leg over the other.

“I remember everyone from back then.” She smiled.

“That's a good trait to have. I try to remember everyone as well, but...” He laughed.

Jeanne couldn't help watching him with curiosity. She remembered Manta as an awkward, nervous person who trailed after Yoh. A non-shaman attending the Shaman Fight was impressive, but he'd also been completely out of his depth and powerless on his own. Here, however, he spoke easily and held himself with confidence. She, for once, was the powerless one.

“To be very honest with you, I've come to ask a favour.” She clapsed her hands on her lap.

Noticing the tension in her shoulders, Meene reached over and set a hand on her shoulder.

“Huh? What could I do for you? If you're after Yoh, I don't know where he is either.”

“No, it's not about him. I'm not sure he would be much help even if you could find him.”

“Eh? Something I can help with but Yoh can't?” He was visibly stunned by this concept.

“Not all shaman problems require shaman solutions,” Cebin noted.

“He's right. Our difficulties are far more... Mundane.”

Manta leaned back in his seat,cup of tea resting on his lap, watching Jeanne with wide eyes. “So it's money?”

The X-Laws around her tensed, but Jeanne kept her composure. “Yes. But it's more than just the money. We've been working hard to make change, real change, for a lot of people in difficult circumstances. On my travels I realised word of our work had spread far, but our actions are far more limited. We need the money, but we also need the support. I know you're a good person, and you want to see the world become a better place. I'm asking you to help us change things, to see that dream come true.” She picked her cup up and sipped.

He watched her silently, thinking it over. He wasn't a subtle person; his brow furrowed as he turned it over in his mind. His reflection in his drink stared back up at him, silently going over the same problems.

Jeanne could feel her companions' impatience at her side. She drank her tea and remained relaxed. She'd said her peace.

“I can't do much for you,” he finally admitted.

“Why not?” She kept her voice gentle and non-accusatory.

“This is still my father's company, no matter what I've pushed to change. I can't convince the entire board to support an activist group without a good reason.”

“Is helping people not good reason?”

“This is business,” he told her, voice tired and heavy. “Everything is about weighing up loss and gain. In the eyes of the Oyamada corporation, there's no gain in supporting you. I had a hard enough time pulling the business away from arms dealing. They won't support radical change like yours so quickly.”

She chewed the inside of her lip and tried not to scowl at her tea. This was her best chance at getting any company on board with her. No one else would give the X-charity the time of day, let alone bring them directly into the office.

“I can offer some financial support, but it's not much.”

She looked up.

Manta had an intense expression on his face. “It can't be from the company, it'll be my own money. It'll have to stay anonymous for a while, as well. If they find out I'm supporting you, they'll think I'm irresponsible with my money. I'm looking into incorporating shamanism into business, but I have to build up to convince people. It's baby steps in this industry.”

She nodded. “We are in no position to complain about what support you can give us. We're grateful for anything.”

He nodded and set his cup aside. “I wish I could do more.”

“We'll keep working. I'm just glad Lyserg had the thought to pass us on to you.”

“He's a good guy, I'm glad he did.” Manta smiled, then a thought struck him. “Actually, passing you on again isn't a bad idea.” He hopped down from his seat and rushed to his desk.

“What do you mean?” She asked, confused.

“Maybe shaman problems don't require shaman solutions, but that doesn't mean you don't still need shaman support, right?” Manta rambled as he flicked through a large leather-bound binder.

“We do have quite a bit of shaman support, but...”

“Money, right. Business, social power, reaching people at the top. But that's the thing.” He stopped at one page and reached for his notepad. “We know shaman who are at the top, who have that sort of power. You've not been through China yet, right?”

She shook her head. “We know there are a lot of communities there we'd like to reach out to.”

“Good. I now exactly who you should talk to.” He scribbled something down on his notepad and ripped the page off.

“In China?” She blinked. “Do you mean...?”

“Of course. Who else?” He grinned and stepped forwards, handing her the page. “We don't talk a lot, but he and I make sure to keep in touch. It's important for me to keep these sorts of connections, and he is my friend. I think you'll get lot more from him. He's pretty level-headed these days, so don't worry about him at all.”

She took the page and looked down at it. The name stood out, bold, above the rest of it.

REN TAO

“Thank you.” She folded it in half and tucked it into a pocket.

“You might get pretty lucky with him. He does owe you, now I think about it.” Manta sat back down in his seat.

“Maybe. It would be interesting to see him again after all these years.” She folded her hands in her lap and smiled. “Thank you, really, you've been a lot of help.”

“I don't feel like I have, but I'm glad you think that.”

“I hope we didn't take up too much of your time.”

“No! Not at all!” He waved a hand quickly. “Honestly, it's just nice to see a familiar face. I'm going to have to return to Japan soon, it's really lonely out here.” He laughed and settled down. “Actually, if it's not much trouble, I'd like to hear about your travels. Sometimes it feels like the Shaman Fight was all a big dream. I'd like to know what everyone's doing now.”

She gave a small laugh. “Of course. I'd love to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i advertised this like its a jeanne/ren fic but its mostly a jeanne fic

**Author's Note:**

> murdered the """""canon""""" timeline and made it my own. She's 10 during the fights, she'll age as the fic progresses.  
> If you haven't read Flowers yet, this has a huge spoiler revealed in that manga so read at your own discretion. Also just go read Flowers dude just do it and read all the spinoffs to dude just go do that.


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